


Ode to a Ketchup Stain

by JoeMerl



Category: Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon & Comics)
Genre: Brotherly Affection, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Gen, Limericks, Poetry, Post-Canon, Silly, Teasing, Writer's Month 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:59:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26984785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoeMerl/pseuds/JoeMerl
Summary: Greg tries to help Wirt write a poem.
Relationships: Gregory & Gregory's Frog | Jason Funderburker & Wirt, Gregory & Wirt (Over the Garden Wall), Wirt's love interests are also mentioned in passing.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 35





	Ode to a Ketchup Stain

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Fanfiction.net on August 18, 2019, done for the Writer's Month prompt "Poetry."

Wirt sat against the tree in his backyard, muttering to himself as he flipped through one of his poetry books.

"Tennyson? Too complex. Dickinson? Too simple. Poe? Hmm...no. He's either too romantic _or_ too macabre."

"Hey, Wirt! Are you talking to us, or to those people with the weird names that you keep saying?"

Wirt looked up. Greg was hanging upside-down from the branch above him, his pet bullfrog clutched tightly to his chest. He righted himself and dropped to the ground as Wirt closed his book with a weary sigh.

"I'm talking to myself, Greg. I'm trying to get some inspiration. I have to write a poem for school, but—"

"Well, _that's_ nice. You're great at writing poems! Tonight I have to do _subtraction._ With numbers as big as _ninety-nine!_ "

"I'm not _good_ at writing poems, Greg. I'm— _adequate_ at best. And I'm going to have to read this in front of the whole class, so—"

"Ooh, read that one you wrote for Sara, about, um—sailing, and seeing the stars and stuff?"

Wirt frowned. "I'm not reading that one. To anyone, ever."

"Or how 'bout that other one about Sara, where you're counting, and—"

"I'm not reading _any_ poem about Sara in front of the whole class, Greg!"

"Then how about that song you did for Lorna that's _also_ about sailing and—"

" _I'm not choosing_ ANY _poem that I_ EVER _wrote about a girl!_ " Wirt was beginning to grow red in the face.

"Then I guess that one you wrote for Mother's Day is out, too," Greg mused, putting a finger to his cheek as he walked in a tight circle on the grass. "Then you...should write a poem about...oh! You should write one about _Jason Funderburker!_ " he said, holding up his frog with a triumphant look on his face.

"RIBBIT," Jason Funderburker agreed.

Despite himself, Wirt smiled. "I don't think there's a single word that sounds good with 'Funderburker,' Greg. Besides, human Jason Funderberker is in my English class. It would get confusing."

"Yeah," Greg said wistfully, sitting down on the lawn. "He really needs to change his name already."

Wirt leaned against the tree. "Don't worry about me. I'll find a nice poem to inspire me and get— _something_ out by tomorrow. Even though it'll probably stink."

"Well, maybe _I_ can help inspire you!" Greg said, standing again and spreading his hands excitedly. " _I'll_ come up with a poem that'll help _you_ come up with one!"

Wirt quirked an eyebrow. "Oh, really? And who's gonna help _you_ come up with that?"

"I can come up with a poem _easy!_ Like..."

He put a hand to his chin, glanced around the yard and then snapped his fingers as he glanced at Wirt. He straightened up to his full, rather meager height and cleared his throat. " _Ahem—_

_"I once had a brother named Wirt,_   
_Who spilled ketchup onto his shirt._   
_The ketchup was red_   
_And made him look like he'd bled_   
_When onto his shirt it did squirt!"_

He grinned, staring up at his brother expectantly. Wirt looked impressed. 

"That's...actually got a pretty good rhythm for something that you just made up off the cuff."

"I was inspired by _this_ real-life ketchup stain," Greg said, jabbing a finger onto Wirt's chest.

He looked down. "Huh? What stain—"

Greg brought up his finger to flick Wirt on the nose.

"...Of course," he said as Greg giggled and Jason Funderburker croaked in amusement.


End file.
